TORCHY GETS THE THUMB GRIP
I expect a lot of people thought it about me; but the one who really
registered the idea was Auntie. Trust her. For of course, with an event
of this kind staged in the house we couldn't expect to dodge a visit
from the old girl. She came clear up from Miami--although, with so much
trouble about through sleepers and everything, I kept tellin' Vee I was
afraid she wouldn't think it worth while makin' the trip.
"How absurd, Torchy!" says Vee. "Not want to see baby? To be sure, she
will."
You see, Vee had the right hunch from the very first--about the
importance of this new member of the fam'ly, I mean. She took it as a
matter of course that everybody who'd ever known or heard of us would be
anxious to rush in and gaze awe-struck and reverent at this remarkable
addition we'd made to the population of Long Island. Something like
that. She don't have to work up to it. Seems to come natural. Why, say,
she'd sit by and listen without crackin' a smile to these regular
gushers who laid it on so thick you'd 'most thought the youngster
himself would have turned over and run his tongue out at 'em.
"Oh, the dear, darling 'ittle cherub!" they'd squeal. "Isn't he simp-ly
the most won-der-ful baby you ev-er saw?"
And Vee would never blink an eye. In fact, she'd beam on 'em grateful,
and repeat to me afterwards what they'd said, like it was just a case of
the vote bein' made unanimous, as she knew it was bound to be all along.
Which wasn't a bit like any of the forty-seven varieties of Vee I
thought I was so well acquainted with. No. I'll admit she'd shown whims
and queer streaks now and then, and maybe a fault or so; but nothing
that had anything to do with any tendency of the ego to stick its elbows
out. Yet, when it comes to listenin' to flatterin' remarks about our son
and heir--well, no Broadway star readin' over what his press-agent had
smuggled into the dramatic notes had anything on her. She couldn't have
it handed to her too strong.
As for me, I guess I was in sort of a daze there for a week or so.
Gettin' to be a parent had been sprung on me so sudden that it was sort
of confusin'. I couldn't let on to be a judge of babies myself. I don't
know as I'd ever examined one real near to before, anyway--not such a
new one as this.
And, between me and you, when I did get a chance to size him up real
close once,--they'd all gone out of the room and left me standin' by the
crib,--I was kind of disappointed. Uh-huh. No use kiddin' yourself. I
couldn't see a thing wonderful about him, or where he was much different
from others I'd glanced at casual. Such a small party to have so much
fuss made over! Why, one of his hands wasn't much bigger'n a cat's paw.
And his face was so red and little and the nose so sketchy that it
didn't seem likely he'd ever amount to much. Here he'd had more'n a week
to grow in, and I couldn't notice any change at all.
Not that I was nutty enough to report any such thoughts. Hardly. I felt
kind of guilty at just havin' 'em in my head. How was it, I asked
myself, that I couldn't stand around with my hands clasped and my eyes
dimmed up, as a perfectly good parent should when he gazes at his first
and only chee-ild! Wasn't I human?
All the alibi I can put up is that I wasn't used to bein' a father.
Ain't there something in that? Just think, now. Why, I'd hardly got
used to bein' married. Here, only a little over a year ago, I was
floatin' around free and careless. And then, first thing I know, without
any special coachin' in the act, I finds myself pushed out into the
center of the stage with the spot-light on me, and I'm introduced as a
daddy.
The only thing I could do was try to make a noise like one. I didn't
feel it, any more'n I felt like a stained-glass saint in a church
window. And I didn't know the lines very well. But there was everybody
watching,--Vee, and the nurse, and Madame Battou, and occasional
callers,--so I proceeds to bluff it through the best I could.
My merry little idea was to be familiar with the youngster, treat him as
if he'd been a member of the fam'ly for a long time, and hide any
embarrassin' feelin's I might have by addressin' him loud and joshin'. I
expect it was kind of a poor performance, at that. But I seemed to be
gettin' away with it, so I stuck to that line. Vee appears to take it
all right, and, as nobody else gave me the call, I almost got to believe
it was the real thing myself.
So this particular afternoon, when I came breezin' in from town, I
chases right up to the nursery, where I knew I'd find Vee, gives her
the usual hail just behind the ear, and then turns hasty to the crib to
show I haven't forgot who's there.
"Hello, old sport!" says I, ticklin' him in the ribs. "How you hittin'
'em, hey? Well, well! Look at the fistses doubled up! Who you goin' to
hand a wallop to now? Oh, tryin' to punch yourself in the eye, are you?
Come there, you young rough-houser, lay off that grouchy stuff and speak
some kind words to your daddy. You won't, eh? Goin' to kick a little
with the footsies. That's it. Mix in with all fours, you young----"
And just then I hears a suppressed snort that sounds sort of familiar. I
glances around panicky, and gets the full benefit of a disgusted glare
from a set of chilled steel eyes, and discovers that there's someone
besides Vee and the nurse present. Yep. It's Auntie.
"May I ask," says she, "if this is your usual manner of greeting your
offspring?"
"Why," says I, "I--I expect it is."
"Humph!" says she. "I might have known."
"Now, Auntie," protests Vee, "you know very well that Torchy means----"
"Whatever he means or doesn't mean," breaks in Auntie, "I am sure he
has an astonishing way of showing parental affection. Calling the child
an 'old scout,' a 'young rough-houser'! It's shocking."
"Sorry," says I; "but I ain't taken any lessons in polite baby talk yet.
Maybe in time I could learn this ittums-tweetums stuff, but I doubt it.
Always made me sick, that did; and one of the things Vee and I agreed on
was that----"
"Oh, very well," says Auntie. "I do not intend to interfere in any way."
As if she could help it! Why, say, she'd give St. Peter advice on
gate-keepin'. But for the time bein', each of us havin' had our say, we
calls it a draw and gets back to what looks like a peace footin'. But
from then on I knew she had her eyes out at me. Every move I made was
liable to get her breathin' short or set her squirmin' in her chair. And
you know how it's apt to be in a case like that. I made more breaks than
ever. I'd forget about the youngster bein' asleep and cut loose with
something noisy at the wrong time. Or I'd jolt her some other way.
But she held in until, one night after dinner, when the baby had
indulged in too much day sleepin' and was carryin' on a bit, I takes a
notion to soothe him with a few humorous antics while Auntie is safe
downstairs. You see, I'd never been able to get him to take any notice
of me before; but this time, after I'd done a swell imitation of a Fred
Stone dance, I had him cooin' approvin', the nurse smotherin' a smile,
and Vee snickerin'.
Naturally, I has to follow it up with something else. I was down on my
hands and knees doin' a buckin' bronco act across the floor, when there
comes this gasp from the doorway. It seems Auntie was passin' by, and
peeked in. Her eyebrows go up, her mouth corners come down, and she
stiffens like she'd grabbed a high-voltage feed wire. I saw it comin',
but the best I can do is steady myself on my fingers and toes and wish I
had cotton in my ears.
"Really!" says she. "Are you never to realize, young man, that you are
now supposed to be a husband and a father?"
And, before I can shoot back a word, she's sailed on, her chin in the
air and her mouth about as smilin' as a crack in a vinegar bottle. But
she'd said it. She'd pushed it home, too. And the worst of it was, I
couldn't deny that she had the goods on me. I might pass as a husband,
if you didn't expect too much. But as for the rest--well, I knew I
wasn't meetin' the specifications.
The only model I could think of was them fond parent groups you see in
the movie close-ups--mother on the right, father at the left, and Little
Bright Eyes squeezed in between and bein' mauled affectionate. Had we
ever indulged in any such family clinch? Not up to date. Why? Was it
because I was a failure as a daddy? Looked so. And here was Auntie
taxin' me with it. Would other folks find out, too?
I begun thinkin' over the way different ones had taken the news. Old
Hickory, for instance. I was wearin' a wide grin and still feelin' sort
of chesty when I broke into his private office and handed him the
bulletin.
"Eh?" he grunts, squintin' at me from under them bushy eyebrows. "A
father! You? Good Lord!"
"Why not?" says I. "It's still being done, ain't it?"
"Oh, I suppose so. Yes, yes," he goes on, starin' at me. "But somehow,
young man, I can hardly think of you as--as---- Well, congratulations,
Torchy. You have frequently surprised me by rising to the occasion.
Perhaps you will in this also."
"Thanks, Mr. Ellins," says I. "It's nice of you to cheer me up that
way."
Piddie, of course, said the right and elegant thing, just as if he'd
learned it out of a book. He always does, you know. Makes a reg'lar
little speech, and finishes by givin' me the fraternal handclasp and a
pat on the shoulder.
But a minute after I caught him gazin' at me wonderin', and he goes off
shakin' his head.
Then I runs across my newspaper friend Whitey Weeks, who used to know me
when I was a cub office-boy on the Sunday editor's door.
"Well, Torchy," says he, "what you got on your mind?"
"Nothing you could make copy out of," says I, "but it's a whale of an
event for me."
"You don't say," says he. "Somebody died and left you the business?"
"Just the opposite," says I.
"I don't get you," says he.
"Ah, what's usually in the next column?" says I. "It's a case of
somebody bein' born."
"Why--why," says he, openin' his mouth, "you don't mean that----"
"Uh-huh," says I, tryin' to look modest.
[Illustration: "I was down on my knees doin' a buckin' bronco act, when
there comes a gasp from the doorway."]
"Haw-haw!" roars Whitey, usin' the steam siren effect. And, as it's
right on the corner of Forty-second and Broadway, he comes near
collectin' a crowd. Four or five people turn around to see what the
merriment is all about, and a couple of 'em stops short in their tracks.
One guy I spotted for a vaudeville artist lookin' for stuff that might
fat up his act.
"Say," Whitey goes on, poundin' me on the back jovial, "that's rich,
that is!"
"Glad it amuses you," says I, startin' to move off.
"Oh, come, old chap!" says he, followin' along. "Don't get crabby.
What--what is it, anyway?"
"It's a baby," says I. "Quite a young one. Now go laugh your fat head
off, you human hyena."
With that shot I dashes through the traffic and catches a downtown car,
leavin' him there with his silly face unhinged. And I did no more
announcin' to anybody. I was through advertisin'. When some of the
commuters on the eight-three heard the news and started springin' their
comic tricks on me, I pretended I didn't understand.
I don't know what they thought. I didn't give a whoop, either. I wasn't
demandin' that anybody should pass solemn resolutions thankin' me for
what I'd done for my country, or stand with their hats off as I went by.
But I was overstocked on this joke-book junk.
Maybe I didn't look like a father, or act like one; but I was doin' my
best on the short notice I'd had.
I will say for Vee that she stood by me noble. She seemed to think
whatever I did was all right, even when I shied at holdin' the youngster
for the first time.
"I'm afraid I'll bend him in the wrong place," I protests.
"Goose!" says she. "Of course you won't."
"Suppose I should drop him?" says I.
"You can't if you take him just as I show you," she goes on patient.
"Now, sit down in that chair. Crook your left arm like this. Now hold
your knees together, and we'll just put the little precious right in
your---- There! Why, you're doing it splendidly."
"Am I?" says I.
I might have believed her if I hadn't caught a glimpse of myself in the
glass. Say, I was sittin' there as easy and graceful as if I'd been made
of structural iron and reinforced concrete. Stiff! Them stone lions in
front of the Public Lib'ry was frolicsome lambs compared to me. And I
was wearin' the same happy look on my face as if I was havin' a tooth
plugged.
Course that had to be just the time when Mr. Robert Ellins happened in
for his first private view. Mrs. Robert had towed him down special. He's
a reg'lar friend, though, Mr. Robert is. I can't say how much of a
struggle he had to keep his face straight, but after the first spasm has
worn off he don't show any more signs of wantin' to cackle. And he don't
pull any end-man stuff.
"Well, well, Torchy!" says he. "A son and heir, eh? I salute you."
"Same to you and many of 'em," says I, grinnin' simple.
It was the first thing that came into my head, but I guess I'd better
not have let it out. Mrs. Robert pinks up, Vee snickers, and they both
hurries into the next room.
"Thank you, Torchy," says Mr. Robert. "Within certain limitations, I
trust your wish comes true. But I say--how does it feel, being a
father?"
"Just plain foolish," says I.
"Eh?" says he.
"Honest, Mr. Robert," says I, "I never felt so much like a ham sandwich
at a Chamber of Commerce banquet as I do right now. I'm beginnin' to
suspect I've been miscast for the part."
"Nonsense!" says he soothin'. "You appear to be getting along
swimmingly. I'm sure I wouldn't know how to hold a baby at all."
"You couldn't know less'n I do about it at present writing," says I. "I
don't dare move, and both my legs are asleep from the knees down. Do me
a favor and call for help, won't you?"
"Oh, I say!" he calls out. "The starboard watch wants to be relieved."
So Vee comes back and pries the baby out of my grip.
"Isn't he absurd!" says she. "But he will soon learn. All men are like
that at first, I suppose."
"Hear that, Mr. Robert?" says I. "That's what I call a sun-cured
disposition."
She'd make a good animal-trainer, Vee; she's so persistent and patient.
After dinner she jollies me into tryin' it again.
"You needn't sit so rigid, you know," she coaches me. "Just relax
naturally and let his little head rest easy in the hollow of your arm.
No, you don't have to grab him with the other hand. Let him kick his
legs if he wants to. See, he is looking up at you! Yes, I believe he
is. Do you see Daddy? Do you, precious?"
"Must be some sight," I murmurs. "What am I supposed to do now?"
"Oh, you may rock him gently, if you like," says Vee. "And I don't
suppose he'd mind if you sang a bit."
"Wouldn't that be takin' a mean advantage?" says I.
Vee laughs and goes off so I can practice alone, which was thoughtful of
her.
I didn't find it so bad this time. I discovers I can wiggle my toes
occasionally without lettin' him crash on to the floor. And I begun to
get used to lookin' at him at close range, too. His nose don't seem
quite so hopeless as it did. I shouldn't wonder but what he'd grow a
reg'lar nose there in time. And their little ears are cute, ain't they?
But say, it was them big blue eyes that got me interested. First off
they sort of wandered around the room aimless; but after a while they
steadies down into gazin' at me sort of curious and admirin'. I rather
liked that.
"How about it, Snookums?" says I. "What do you think of your amateur
daddy? Or are you wonderin' if your hair'll be as red as mine? Don't you
care. There's worse things in life than bein' bright on top. Eh? Think
you'd like to get your fingers in it? Might burny-burn. Well, try it
once, if you like." And I ducks my head so he can reach that wavin'
forelock of mine.
"Googly-goo!" remarks Sonny, indicatin' 'most anything you're a mind to
call it.
Anyway, he seems to be entertained. We was gettin' acquainted fast.
Pretty soon he pulls a smile on me. Say, it's the real thing in the
smile line, too--confidential and chummy. I has to smile back.
"That's the trick, Buster!" says I. "Friendly face motions is what wins."
"Goo-oogly-goo!" says he.
"True words!" says I. "I believe you."
We must have kept that up for near half an hour, until he shows signs of
gettin' sleepy. Just before he drops off, though, he was wavin' one of
his hands around, and the first thing I know them soft little pink
fingers has circled about my thumb.
Say, that turned the trick--just that. Ever had a baby grip you that
way? Your own, I mean? If you have, I expect you'll know what I'm
drivin' at. And if you ain't--well, you got something comin' to you.
It's a thing I couldn't tell you about. It's a gentle sort of thrill,
that spreads and spreads until it gets 'way inside of you--under your
vest, on the left side.
When Vee finally comes in to see how we're gettin' along, he's snoozin'
calm and peaceful, with a sketchy smile kind of flickerin' on and off
that rosebud mouth of his, like he was indulgin' in pleasant dreams.
Also, them little pink fingers was still wrapped around my thumb.
"Well, if you aren't a picture, you two!" says Vee, bendin' over and
whisperin' in my ear.
"This ain't a pose," says I. "It's the real thing."
"You mean----" begins Vee.
"I mean I've qualified," says I. "Maybe I didn't show up so strong
durin' the initiation, but I squeaked through. I'm a reg'lar daddy now.
See! He's givin' me the inside brother grip--on my thumb. You can call
Auntie in, if you like."